The face is placed upside down on a corner of the table and you spill ink on a sheet of paper you would like to say something… Read more “The Circle by Ivan de Mobrison”
Quote, Your Honor, Unquote by C.J Anderson-Wu
Sitting on the bench, trying to humiliate me, Your Honor, you should feel ashamed of yourself. You believe in nothing but power dominance over you. You are… Read more “Quote, Your Honor, Unquote by C.J Anderson-Wu”
The House Sparrow by Brittany Hague
Eileen watched her husband, Thomas, pat his belly at the breakfast table, bloated with dull contentment. A career man with big bones, a big home, and a… Read more “The House Sparrow by Brittany Hague”
Where Lies Reality by Lynn White
In my sweet dreams I can float and swim like a fish. Can extract air from the water, as they do. And breathe it out in pretty… Read more “Where Lies Reality by Lynn White”
Holiday by Lynn White
Even Death needs to take a break sometime. Needs to sit on the beach in the sun with his scythe hidden, so as not to frighten the… Read more “Holiday by Lynn White”
An Overpowering Presence by Bobbi sinha-Morey
The caregiver didn’t last for very long when she’d heard movement behind the wall two nights in a row and no one wanted to go inside the… Read more “An Overpowering Presence by Bobbi sinha-Morey”
The Necklace by Bobbi Sinha-Morey
I didn’t want her necklace after she’d died; I buried it behind the house between the browning arugula and dying squash, and I wanted no trace of… Read more “The Necklace by Bobbi Sinha-Morey”
A Rose in Winter by Bobbi Sinha-Morey
No one ever saved her dying soul, she the one whose heart turned grey before its time and you could see the darkness in her eyes as… Read more “A Rose in Winter by Bobbi Sinha-Morey”
In the Hour Before Sunset
Nerves trembling like pond surface, in a meadow that’s a wide plaza of green, and above – glorious – the serene blue, Armand and I race our… Read more “In the Hour Before Sunset”
To the Pond in April by John Grey
I am let out into an April field, with a dying headwind that focuses on its own circularity, separate from the opened wildflowers, fresh and rinsed by… Read more “To the Pond in April by John Grey”